


Eye of the Storm

by Kookaburra42



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Agatha has a brain cell, Badass, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, FINE I MARRIED SOPHIE NICOLA AND RAVAN, Gen, Ravan has both, Ravan’s shapeshifting is a thing, Sophie has a glaive, Tedros is struggling, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kookaburra42/pseuds/Kookaburra42
Summary: Sophie likes precisely one thing about the School for Good and Evil: that there are plenty of places to cry.  When she has a conversation with top villain Ravan in one of those places, history changes.  But is it for the better?  Or will things just get weird?
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Nicola/Sophie/Ravan (The School for Good and Evil), Sophie & Ravan (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: SGE Fandom Big Bang





	Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for the SGE Big Bang 2020! Enjoy! Thanks to my amazing beta reader @pumpkinpaperweight who uses that username on both here and tumblr, who made this fic possible!

Sophie hated everything about the School for Evil with one exception. When she was feeling particularly hopeless there were plenty of places to cry. A dark alcove here, a crumbling arch there, and what did it matter? She did the same thing in all of them. 

She was in one of those places now, bawling her eyes out and thanking God that there was no one nearby. The torches around her flickered ghoulishly, their lights taunting her.

“I’ll never make it out of this place alive!” Sophie wailed, burying her face in her hands. Her chest was so constricted she couldn’t breathe and she coughed, trying to force air back into her lungs. 

It was now more than ever she wished her mother was still alive. Everything would be okay if her mother was still alive. There wouldn’t have been a mistake. She would be in the School for Good right now. She’d have friends. She’d be happy. _What an utter mess._

“Tu me manques, Maman,” she whispered, slipping back into the language they spoke in Gavaldon. She almost missed the mundane little town now, with its language and almost-but-not-quite picturesque streets. “Tu me manques, Agatha.” 

She _absolutely_ missed being around the snarky graveyard girl, with her snorted quips and scrawny limbs. Her friend. Her Good Deed. The closest she’d come to happiness in that stupid village. _But it wasn’t enough,_ a voice in her head sneered. _No, you were so determined to be_ better _than them you had to get yourself thrown_ here _._ The voice, she thought absently, sounded almost like Hester’s. 

She wished it would go away, that nagging feeling that she was meant to be here, that she was as Evil as her classmates said she was. _It isn’t true. I’m Good, I’m kind, I’m loving…_

_Aren’t I?_

Sophie’s sobs crescendoed into violent wails, her lungs clawing for air. She coughed so hard she thought she’d throw up, but she couldn’t stop _crying._

_Aw, the little baby princess can’t handle the big bad villains,_ Hester’s voice sneered. Ghostly laughs followed, some girls’, some boys’. _Does she want to talk about her_ feelings _?_

_Stop!_ The laughter just grew louder and louder. Sophie hugged her knees and sobbed harder, her saggy black smock soaked with tears. 

Someone grabbed her and she screamed. “Be _quiet!_ ” a boy’s voice, deep and accented, hissed. 

“Go away!” she snapped, yanking her arm away from whoever it was. “I just want to be alone.” 

“You would have gotten noticed anyway,” the boy snapped back. Then he sighed. “Just…be quiet, okay?” 

“I can’t,” Sophie sniffled. “This place is awful, I miss my friend, I even miss my stupid, arrogant father--” The boy touched her arm gently. “What?” 

“Look at me,” he murmured. She did. What she saw practically made her burst into tears again. One of the best villains in the school was sitting next to her and trying to get her to calm down. _How pathetic am I that a villain feels bad for me?_

“Go away, Ravan,” she mumbled, glaring at him. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and glared right back. 

“You can stop crying,” he said. “You can’t physically cry forever. You’d run out of tears and just spend your time coughing and sniffling.”   
  
“How do you know that?” she snarled. “Villains don’t cry!” 

“We do. We just don’t do it in front of other people.” Ravan shrugged. Sophie frowned at him. 

“That’s silly,” she scoffed. “Why would you cry? I thought Evil was remorseless.” 

“Not remorse. Grief.” He looked at his hands and scowled. “Especially before we understand what’s good for us.” She stared. That was the strangest thing she had ever heard. Villains? Crying? Feeling _grief,_ of all things? Preposterous. 

“Why would you feel grief? You can’t love!” Sophie crossed her arms and scowled. 

“Not romantically, no,” he agreed, finally deigning to look at her. She realised now that he was not as ugly as the other villains; his only real fault appearance-wise was his oily skin and that was an easy fix. 

“Do you care about your families?” she mumbled, still 

“Yes, in a fashion.” Ravan glared at her. “Villains don’t _fall in love,_ but we have feelings, idiot.” 

“You’re not helping!” 

  
“I _am_ distracting you. You’ve stopped crying.” He was right. Wonderful.

“Well, that’s something, at least.” Sophie gave a sniff and glared at him. 

“And just what, pray tell, did I do to deserve that?” He arched a brow. 

“Nothing. Something. Oh, go away, will you?” She glared harder. He snorted, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Fine. Just…don’t do that anymore, at least not here.” He stood and strolled off. Sophie felt something sting her leg and she leapt back in shock. Words were burned into the floor. 

_Meet me at midnight in the clearing tomorrow. Alone._

The words vanished as soon as she finished reading them. 

* * *

“Are you _joking?_ ” Agatha hissed, eyes bulging. “You are. Please, please say you are not going to meet one of the best villains in school, trusting him on the basis that he got you to _stop crying one time_!” 

“I’m not joking, Aggie. Now hush, or someone will hear!” Sophie whispered back. 

“Okay, okay,” Agatha snapped. “Let’s say for the sake of argument he doesn’t kill you--”

“He’d be failed--” 

“Or curse you--”

“What would his motive be?” Sophie snarled. 

“You’re annoying sometimes.” 

“Oh, _really_? That is a villainous motive indeed! Oh, dear, someone you found sobbing in an alcove is slightly annoying on occasion! My God! Death to them! Death, I say!” Sophie gave Agatha a vicious look and flounced off to sit by herself. Agatha gaped after her. 

“I almost hope he kills her now,” Agatha muttered. She went back to her lunch. 

* * *

Sophie didn’t exactly know _why_ she was sulking on the Evil side of the clearing, but at least she didn’t have to listen to Agatha’s holier-than-thou lectures. _As if she’s better than me,_ Sophie thought. _To think I missed her!_

“Hi!” Dot’s voice broke Sophie out of her sulking. “I asked Agatha where you were and she said that--”  
  


“That what?” 

“That you were sitting by yourself,” Dot finished, chomping on a chocolate knife. “By the way, do you know whose knives these are? They make wonderful chocolate.” Sophie couldn’t help but smile. Of course, she had no idea where the knives came from, but at least she had something to distract herself from everything. She started to say something and stopped. 

The knife had words on it. The knife had words in a language she knew how to read. The knife said: _You must See yourself._

“Is there a way to turn something back to what it was before you turned it to chocolate?” 

“There is. Why?” 

“Can I see that knife?” 

“Sure, here. Why?” Dot turned it back and handed it to her. Sophie didn’t answer, but looked it over and then frowned. 

“Whose is this?” 

“I don’t know. I found it on the floor near our room. Someone must have dropped it--where are you going?” Sophie had stood up and was walking off. 

“To find someone,” was the vague response. 

Dot narrowed her eyes, but decided against doing anything. _It’s Sophie. When things get bad, Agatha will step in._

* * *

“Why did you leave me this knife?” the irate Nevergirl snarled, brandishing the hilt. 

“Where’s the blade?” Ravan looked down at her and tilted his head. He eyed her cautiously, thankful for his height and horns. At least in intimidation he had her beat. 

“In Dot’s stomach. Answer the question.” 

_Relentless. Brief. Good._ Ravan could hear that stupid voice again, a deep rasp that chilled him to the bone. “I left it so you could have it. Simple.” 

“There was writing on it--” 

“Many daggers have inscriptions. What of it?”

“I could _read_ it!” 

“I had hoped you knew how to read.” 

“Well, I’ve never seen this lettering, yet I can read it! Explain!” 

“Fine. You’re an Elf, born under the lights of the stars by a mythical lake.” She stared at him for a moment in bewilderment. He burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. That’s not uncommon, the ability to read languages you haven’t seen.” 

She grimaced. “Just…what are you up to?” 

“I want to teach you something,” he said. 

“What?”  
  


“I’ll give you a hint. Evil doesn’t use it anymore, but Good depends on it.” 

“That’s useless,” she huffed. 

“Not if you think for once.” She glared and walked off, probably to find her Evergirl friend. 

Whatever. So long as she learned. 

* * *

The darkness of night was not something Sophie was glad for, at least not on most occasions. Now was a different story. She had wrapped herself in one of Hester’s cloaks (which were far too large for her) and slipped out the window.   
  


She ran as fast as she could while still being quiet. Managing to navigate the labyrinth that was the School for Evil was a nightmare, and even worse, it was almost midnight. 

She barely managed to make it to the clearing in time. The first thing she noticed was that some sort of weapon was set against a tree. It looked like a kind of spear, but she wasn’t sure. She’d never seen anything like it before. 

“You made it out of the castle.” Ravan’s voice was almost impressed. He stepped out from behind a tree to stand in front of her, a smirk ghoulishly haunting his face

“Oh, shut it. What is it you wanted to teach me?” 

“How to use this,” he said, nodding to the weapon. “It’s my spare. Doesn’t have my mark. Figured you’d want to put yours on it.” 

“My…mark?” 

“Yes. Your mark. Before all that, though, you have to learn to use it. Or at least how to hold it.” He picked it up and handed it to her. She held it awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “Oh, hang on. Hand it to me for a second, will you?” 

Sophie did. Ravan almost automatically moved into a stance with his legs apart and bent, the point of the weapon helf toward the ground, while the handle was held at an angle. 

“You try.” It was back in her hands and she copied him as best she could. “Not bad, actually.” She smirked. 

“Of course. I’m me.”

“Don’t get cocky. I never said you were good. Legs wider apart, arms at more of an angle, look down the handle. There. Good.”

“Now what?” 

“Swing it.”

Again, Sophie did what he said. She found that her momentum caused her to spin, which in turn made her stumble.

“Again. This time, try and control the spin and bring the blade towards my neck. Towards, don’t touch.” 

She succeeded at this. Unsurprisingly, he only smirked. 

“Good. Remember, the goal is to attack. You won’t always be able to spin like that.”

“Why are you teaching me how to use this?” 

“It’s a useful skill. Keep a weapon on your person and nothing magical can stop you from fighting.” 

“What’s this weapon called, anyway?” she asked.

“A glaive.” 

* * *

For the next week, the two of them practiced together. Sophie discovered that using it helped get rid of any frustration she felt, and also that she got a strange thrill from holding a blade to someone’s throat.

Agatha didn’t exactly disapprove. She offered words of caution, of course—“I don’t want you to die,” was the constant mantra between them—but otherwise, she only smiled and shook her head knowingly.

This year’s Trial by Tale would be _very_ interesting. 

* * *

Tedros couldn’t help but wonder about this Sophie girl. She and the whatever-he-was made an interesting pair for sure, always sneaking off together and discussing things he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to understand (one snippet he’d caught was “this mark thing—on the blade or the handle?”, and it was Sophie who’d said that). 

He would be facing her in the Trial. Yay. She was first-ranked in the Nevers Trial group and had given one of the Evergirls a black eye (it was Beatrix). 

This was not going to be fun. Still, he had one hope left; maybe they wouldn’t let her use the glaive in the Trial.

* * *

“A _Never?_ Use a _weapon?_ Lady Lesso, absolutely not, the last time we let that happen—”

“Clarissa, we both know what this means.” 

“Yes, yes, that she’s Evil’s great hope.” Clarissa Dovey sighed. “Lady Lesso, if Sophie uses the glaive, someone could _die_.”

“The Everboys use swords.”

“Fine. Fine! But she undergoes the same precautions they do.”

“Fine.”

* * *

Sophie felt sick. She knew she could win, sure, but if Agatha didn’t come through…things may not go well. 

“Aggie, where are you?”she whispered, wrapped her Trial cloak tighter around her. 

Agatha was in a tree, arguing rapidly with Ravan, who had shapeshifted (slightly ironically) into a raven. 

“And I _hope_ she remembers how to use magic, or she’s dead.”

“She does. School spells and her talent. You helped a great deal with the former.” He shifted from foot to foot.

“Thanks,” she grunted, and went back to waiting. 

* * *

The Trial, Sophie mused, was so _easy._ With both weapons and magic, she was able dispatch anyone in her path with ease. As of this moment, she was dueling Hester, who had already unleashed her demon, only to see it fall back to her in terror when Sophie unleashed an enormous wolf on it. They now fought with spells and any weapons possible. Sophie had discovered quickly that her glaive could act as a spell shield and she used it as such until she got close enough to slam the metal handle tip into Hester’s head. When Hester slumped unconscious, she grabbed the witch’s handkerchief and shoved it to the ground. The sun was almost up. Now all she had to do was wait for Tedros to arrive.

Humming an eerie tune, she sat down and waited. 

* * *

When Tedros staggered into the clearing, he found Sophie waiting for him. “Hello, darling,” she sneered. 

He put up even more of a fight than Hester did, but when your opponent wields both magic and weaponry, it’s not easy to beat them.

She had him after a minute more than it took for her to get Hester, and won the Trial.

* * *

A month later, and she was almost as good with a glaive as Ravan was. 

“I think,” he said one day, “you need armor.” 

Sophie felt herself grin. 

“What, afraid of me?” she teased, shoving her shoulder into hers.

He snorted. “Of course not.” 

“Good.” 

* * *

Four years later, Sophie was off conquering something with Ravan and a Reader girl named Nicola, who she seemed to like very much. 

Agatha and Tedros were on their honeymoon, after three years of slowly but surely falling in love, when they got the letter.

_We’re getting married,_ was all it said. 

“Oh no,” Tedros gulped, “all three of them?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Agatha groaned. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
